The past, present and future collide in intoxicating Hong Kong - Expats
The past, present and future collide in intoxicating Hong Kong - Expats
Nick Redman - 24 January 2024
Behind a rough red door on a little street in Sai Ying Pun is a pink-lit subterranean joint called Ping Pong – accessed down steep concrete steps best navigated before your third martini. Were you brought here blindfolded, you’d struggle to know where you might be. The wines whisper New Zealand and Australia, the croquetas and G&Ts shout Spain. And the bare-wire lampshades? Straight outta Hoxton, London.
Such is the allure of Hong Kong, a guaranteed glamorous whirl around the world – even on the briefest stopover. It’s been a decade since the Umbrella Revolution, when citizens protested against China’s decision to allow only candidates vetted by Beijing to run for chief executive of the territory. China’s grip is even tighter now but devotees of Hong Kong are still drawn back by its intoxicating concoction of old and new – wet markets and dry martinis; junks and jumbo jets.
Can’t get away right now? There’s always Amazon Prime’s Expats, a new six-episode drama based on Janice Y K Lee’s 2016 novel The Expatriates, which makes particularly good use of Hong Kong’s multi-sensory, multi-cultural currents. The plot centres on Mercy, Hilary and Margaret, three well-heeled American residents whose lives fuse through domestic tragedy: Margaret, played by Nicole Kidman, has relocated her family to Hong Kong, only for her son to disappear in mysterious circumstances.
City and storyline entwine in this emotional odyssey, set against the events of the 2014 revolution. As well they should: Hong Kong is neck deep in photogenic opportunities, laced with exhilarating widescreen appeal. Raise your hotel blinds by day or night and the CinemaScope view, cluttered with high-rises against green peaks and harbour waters, resembles a classic opening sequence – just add rolling credits. Perhaps Sean Connery in You Only Live Twice or Bruce Lee in Enter the Dragon?
For the bigger picture, take a trip to the Peak: Hong Kong Island’s highest mountain is the city’s place of pilgrimage, no matter how many times you’ve stopped over in the past. Making the ascent is a mini-adventure aboard the Peak Tram, which has been in operation since 1888. The view from the top is epic, down over tower blocks shining like quartz, to Kowloon, and the Northern Territories, beyond Victoria Harbour.
If you do only one other thing while you’re here make it a 50p voyage over those waters. The Star Ferry rumbles back and forth, to and from Central district on the island, in an easy, breezy 20 minutes or so. All on board
are mesmerised by the advancing skyline of buildings programmed to spiral and flutter with brilliant adverts and patterns; a zillion bulbs making megawatt mosaics, always shifting, flickering and blipping, as if sending secret signals to another galaxy.
At street level there’s much more, as neighbourhood traditions play out below the glittery science-fiction architecture: from the laundry-strung apartment balconies of gritty Sham Shui Po to the sweaty neon frazzle of nocturnal Mong Kok, any journey on foot throws up sights of life lived at high voltage: crowded curd shops generations old; family dim sum restaurants whirring beyond steamy window displays of Peking
ducks; signs everywhere for Indian cuisine, Thai food, Japanese dishes and seafood palaces.
All the while torrents of trademark red-and-white taxis pour by like factory-belt sweeties, although the local trams are much more fun to ride. Especially those plying the length of Des Voeux Road, rattling you off to the favourite expat district, Kennedy Town, for lunch somewhere groovy – say the Shoreditch restaurant.
Glimpsed from the top deck, a market display of cut watermelons, red and speckled black, could be an infestation of ladybirds. Hong Kong is one hell of a trip – to where, who really knows? But even as grey clouds obscure the future, golden-lit nostalgia is ever present.
In the Peninsula hotel it could still be 1928, the year the property opened near the waterfront, overlooking Victoria Bay. A century of history meets you in the lobby: twin staircases descend, beautiful relics from the days of ballroom dancing here, when men materialised separately from women. An orchestra overlooks the action from above, the piano, double bass and viola players delivering renditions of pop hits as champagne is drunk and afternoon tea is feverishly demolished – scone in 60 seconds. In Hong Kong, a city of perpetual transition, it’s good to know some things aren’t set – yet – to change. NICK REDMAN
Behind a rough red door on a little street in Sai Ying Pun is a pink-lit subterranean joint called Ping Pong – accessed down steep concrete steps best navigated before your third martini. Were you brought here blindfolded, you’d struggle to know where you might be. The wines whisper New Zealand and Australia, the croquetas and G&Ts shout Spain. And the bare-wire lampshades? Straight outta Hoxton, London.